


A Most Curious Malady

by Nimravidae



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, Fisting, Fisting with Feelings, Frottage, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Sex Pollen, Snowballing, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 08:56:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8243665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nimravidae/pseuds/Nimravidae
Summary: Perhaps it is a strange sort of flower that blooms, or the wetter weather that permeates the Southern colonies, but Benjamin Tallmadge has once again fallen ill with a strange affliction that is only sated by touch and touch alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Jesus, please read the tags. It's exactly what it says on the tin.
> 
> Dedicated to [Iniquiticity](http://iniquiticity.tumblr.com/) and [FickleObsessions](http://fickleobsessions.tumblr.com/), two enablers whom I love most dearly.

They had dealt with situations as this before. Though admittedly, not in such extremes. When Major Tallmadge had first been taken with such a rampant sort of fever (as they have taken to referring to it, as neither Washington, nor any other have found another way to qualify this particular ailment) it was simply a case of bringing the boy to his release. He found it panting and sobbing into Washington’s jacket, clinging to him and rolling his hips along Washington’s thigh. He shook so violently after, stuttering apologies and giving low-whimpered pleas to be given the mercy of a firing squad, and to send his father some constructed tale as to his son's execution.

Once he had been quelled and assured that he will not be tried for such a thing - Washington took the poor boy into his arms, stroking sweat-matted hair and instructing him that should he once again fall victim to this madness, he will come directly to Washington. No matter the hour, no matter the business.

The second time, with still such strange occurrence as the first, Benjamin’s dampened, soiled breeches did not signal the end. Nor could Washington’s hand, make slick with spit, or the use of his mouth upon him, call off this affliction. Benjamin had pleaded for it, so desperately, and Washington crumpled to his pained demands.

By the time the deed had finished that time, and Washington eased himself from the Majors limp, yielding body, a strange sort of charge came upon the air between them. Not unlike the moments before lightning sets fire to the grass nearby. Their next coupling came without the pressures of the mysterious fever - as did the ones to follow. In fact, the strange sort of heat that overcame Benjamin pushed far back to the dusty corners of Washington’s mind. The cause left undiscovered and the instances - so few and spotted as they were - ceased completely as they moved camp. Washington ascribed it as nothing more than the location they had occupied. 

It was too wet, he thinks, too warm for a body to sustain itself without such things. 

But once they leave the site behind, Benjamin still finds his way to Washington’s cot and finds his way back to his own tent, slicked with oils and seed and sated with such loose-limbed pleasure that both men sleep soundly despite the distance.

It had been so long since this fever flared, that Washington has nearly forgotten of it. But he is sure it never lasted as long or so fully enthralled the Major in it’s horrid grips as it does now. He writhes, desperately entangled in the bedclothes, his cock swollen and stiff despite the release painting his own chest and dripping from his thighs.

“More, Sir,” he groans, long legs kicking out and spreading his legs obscenely far, “I cannot - I cannot stop it. It - “ He pauses, gasping as though the air has been driven from his lungs, “It hurts, sir.”

His own stiffness had already softened following his end and now hangs limp and slick with little hope of returning to use in such matters for quite some time. But Benjamin’s affliction remains, turning his skin to mottled pinks and reds and reducing his once-lovely and brave Major to a trembling creature desperate to be plucked from his misery. He practically wails when he is not being handled, and Washington drops his hands immediately to his body. The flames that ripple beneath his skin do not subside, but they withdraw - if only for a moment.

“Thank you,” he babbles, cheeks marked with tears from his pitiful sobs, “thank you, sir. I - I need…”

“Hush, my dear boy,” Washington finds himself saying, fingers stroking up the insides of his thighs, “I know, I know. It will be over soon.” 

“I need you inside me, sir, I need - something.”

“You cannot take me again for some time, I fear. I do not have your youth,” he reminds him, as gently as one can but Benjamin’s response is a horrid noise and were it not for Washington directing his guard elsewhere, he would worry more for the sound. He quiets him down with a struggle and settles himself lower down between Benjamin’s legs. He pushes his read out, and Washington places a soothing hand upon his hip, firm enough to keep him attempting to spread his legs so far that he wrenches they from their joints. 

“Hold your legs,” he commands, and Benjamin obeys. He clambers to grip at his sweat-slick thighs and pull them tight against his own belly. It exposes him wonderfully and Washington kneels closer. His hole is stretched well from their activities - reddened and showing the markers of a thorough use but Washington knows there is little he can do to convince Benjamin to wait until his body has better recuperated. 

He decides to offer the Major time to rest tomorrow, for tonight the ending of this strange fever remains so thoroughly out of sight and if it means shortening the distress Benjamin is in - then he will do what must be done. He palms his cheeks apart, the stretch urging more of Washington’s release to slip from his body.

Following a strange instinct he’s adopted since they’ve begun their dalliances, Washington laps at it. Benjamin’s body nearly convulses at the sensation. Washington laps around his rim, the film of oil thick on his palate, before he moves his hands lower to pull Benjamin apart and press his tongue into him.

He takes his time gathering the smeared remnants of his release on his tongue before he returns to kiss it sweetly into that warm mouth. Benjamin whines into the filthy display, dropping one of his legs and curling his fingers around the back of Washington’s skull. 

An action of that sort would normally result in a stern chiding and perhaps the bounding of Benjamin's hands - but Washington reminds himself, this boy is not in control of his actions. He is guided by a carnal need, forced into action by some other thing far beyond their control. He allows him to press his tongue deeper along Washington’s, allows him to suck it into his mouth and chase the taste of Washington’s release.

He cannot deny the arousal it offers him. Once his mouth has been so thoroughly removed quickly instructs the boy to his front. And Benjamin follows the instruction swiftly. He lays his chest to the bedding and presents his bottom into the air as though he were a bitch in search of a hound to breed her. 

“Will my fingers be enough to sate you until you can be taken again?” He asks, stroking sweetly down the boys flank. 

“I don’t know, sir, but I need to feel stretched. I need something bigger, something more, sir. I wish - I, I can’t…” He devolves once more into pitiful sniffles, the mortification thick and heavy in his voice. It is only what Washington had observed the first time he had fallen prey to this malady - that it is unstoppable. Unlike any other thirst or hunger, which can be ignored for some time if one trains their body to adaption - this craving of the flesh does not cease or diminish or even take pause to allow for other actions to finish. It takes full control and yields for nothing but sexual contact.

“I know you are helpless against it, Benjamin,” he coos, pressing two fingers at once into his yielding body. “I am here, I will see you to the end of this if it takes the length of this war. I am here, I am here.”

Benjamin arches and keens into the pillows, pushing his hips back in a silent demand for more. But Washington will not crumple yet - he stretches him slowly, with careful, long curls and spreads of his fingers until he believes him ready for a third. 

His dear Major has calmed considerably, and Washington wonders if this marks the beginning of the end - but he is once more proven wrong as the young man whimpers a pathetic, “It hurts, sir…”

He immediately withdraws his hand, a creeping horror wrapping ‘round his chest like a band of iron. He should have heeded his own mind's warnings, but Benjamin corrects himself, with a wailing, “No! No, sir, it - more, it hurts because it is not enough. My entire body, it screams for more so much. Please, please, please, sir, please put them back inside him. Put anything inside me, your fingers, your cock, your tongue, anything!” 

How can a man deny what is so readily needed? Washington pushes his three broad fingers back in, his other hand stroking through the pooled sweat at the base of his spine. “I apologize, Major, I only wish not to damage such a precious thing.”

There is no response say for a shuddering exhale of a groan.

Learning quickly what it takes to satisfy his Major, Washington applies more oil to a fourth and the muscle gives way with an appropriate pressure. But it isn’t enough.

It isn’t enough when Benjamin pushes himself back on the fingers, it isn’t enough when he reaches his peak a second time, and his cock remains stiff, it simply isn’t enough to quell the unquenchable desires afflicted upon this young man. For a moment, a familiar sensation sweeps Washington into its grasp. It is one of which he is intimately knowledgeable and one of which he so deeply resents: the sharp ache of uselessness. 

“More,” comes to the familiar plea. Washington looks down to where Benjamin is taking him, his hole stretched so tight around his fingers - surely more, if Washington had more to give, would break him. Perhaps this is what that thing controlling him desires, for Benjamin to be shredded by his own carnal wants, for Washington to play party to his Major’s undoing.

He softly tells him, “You have too much already, Benjamin. Any more and you will…” He trails off as an idea strikes him. It seems rather unsavory, but Washington cannot find another option so he inquires as tenderly as one can, “Do you believe you can accommodate my entire hand?”

It is met with a hurried, and begging affirmation. 

_ “Yes,”  _ Benjamin gasps, arching his back and pushing himself out more, as though simply the sight of his well-stretched, well-used hole stretched taut around his fingers would convince him. “Please sir, please give me your fist - I need it inside me, I need it  _ all  _ inside me. Sir, it’s… please, sir.” He goes on, babbling every single thing that must be crossing the young man’s mind. Washington only pays mind to his trembling thighs, stroking softly down the heated, feverish flesh before he retrieves the vial of oil. It’s nearly half-empty now, and where he would normally wish to ration it in such a strenuous time he finds it far more important to ease the passage of such an event. He coats the rest of his hand liberally, letting opaque droplets roll down his wrist.

Gently, he presses his fingers in more, until he may stroke the quivering muscle of Benjamin’s rim with his thumb.

“Are you certain?” He asks, already knowing Benjamin’s addled answer.

The litany of ‘yes’s and ‘please’s do not quite sate the fear in Washington’s gut, but there is little he finds himself able to do. When the fog has lifted, he will carry Benjamin through whatever modifications and agonies he finds there. 

He twists his fingers, steadying one hand on Benjamin’s hip, until the muscle gives once more and - despite everything else rattling around in Washington’s chest - the sight of Benjamin stretching so much, the feeling of his body’s burning heat clenching and twitching around the entirety of his hand until it attempts to clamp around his wrist, it is enough to cause his cock to being to swell once more. Such a thing has not happened in years, that Washington’s body would permit him such pleasures twice in one night. 

He remains still, more of him inside of his young Major than there has ever been. He allows Benjamin his tiny shifts, miniscule flexes and twitches of his hips, as he sobs openly into his own arms. Along the hiccuping, hitching sounds, Washington hears the unmistakable,  _ thank you  _ repeated again and again. 

He pulls, only for a moment letting his body stretch to the widest part of his hand once more before he pushes it back in, this time his hand flexing deep inside him and Benjamin’s entire body convulses at once. 

“Is it,” he begins, ready to ask if this is too much for him, if he needs him to stop but Benjamin’s hitching breaths form clear words.

“Keep still, sir, I can - I can, yes, yes,  _ yes. _ ” He trails into louder, more notable sounds of pleasure as his body clamps itself around his fist and Benjamin moves back and forward with only the faintest of motions.

It is not long before Benjamin comes, untouched, for the third time this night. It is different than before, his release comes thick and heavy (where all previous attempts had been thin and sparse) and intense enough that Washington worries the boy has lost consciousness for a moment. But he does not fret, instead he is filled so hot with a budding relief. It has always been like this, once the final peak has passed and Benjamin has expelled whatever affliction has caught him. 

The young man slumps, trembling, and Washington takes care to remove himself as carefully as he can. Benjamin’s hole twitches, attempting to close around the nothingness and failing, and Washington thumbs along the rim. He will need ointment, he will need to be cared for - and Washington will. 

There is a drowsy noise and Benjamin stirs himself back to wakefulness, after just a short moment’s respite. He is always confused once he returns to himself, always blinking owlishly, and delirious with exhaustion. It always sinks back into him shortly, in pieces, Benjamin claims, but it always comes back. His voice sounding much clearer, and much better, asks, “Sir?”

Washington hushes him, removing himself from the bed to fetch a rag, “You’ve had another bout, Benjamin. We’ve weathered the storm as we always do. You will stay here tonight, my dear boy.”

“Sir,” he repeats, attempting to push himself up - but Washington guides him back down with a firm touch to his shoulder. No more arguments come as he fetches a cloth, dampened in a basin, and returns to wash him.

He cleans the seed from his belly, the oil from his thighs and gently dabs a soothing ointment along the agitated muscle of his hole. He isn’t sure when, but Benjamin drifts off once more during the process, leaving Washington arrange the boy's body beside his own, pulling bedding atop the both of them. He snuffs out the candle, and vows to return to his duty of caring for this precious thing come morning.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Ask me about my Sex Pollen Headcanons at [tumblr](http://tooeasilyconsidered.tumblr.com/)


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